


A Million Pictures

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Twin Peaks
Genre: Alternate Reality, Best Friends, Buffy Wishverse, Crossover, F/F, Femslash, First Time, Friendship/Love, Omens & Portents, POV First Person, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 14:32:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6055105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cordelia remembers what she wished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Million Pictures

 

I've dreamt sometimes that I come from somewhere else entirely. I mean, I wasn't born in Twin Peaks like everyone else I know--I was born in some weird town in California called Sunnydale--but it's more than that. I have these dreams of floating over a town, watching people.

They have strange names--who on earth is called Buffy or Willow?--and I think sometimes that it's Sunnydale, but everyone's dressed really awfully and it's not the Sunnydale I remember. Worst of all, the air seems filled with something. Evil, I think.

The same sort of evil that's in the woods. And I wonder about that--what the evil is and if I can ever go somewhere where it's not lingering outside of my driveway.

"It wasn't supposed to happen," a voice whispers.

"What?"

"You know what. Bob. Bob's coming."

"Who's Bob?"

"You shouldn't be here," the voice says. "He's got Laura and he'll get you. You shouldn't be here."

"What's going to happen to Laura?" I ask. "Who's Bob?"

"You'll see."

That's when I wake up, hearing this almost-voice say--

"I wish that I--"

It doesn't make any sense, but it's not like I'm the first or last girl in Twin Peaks to have strange dreams. In fact, it's weirder not to be crazy than it is to be crazy here and I take great comfort in that.

My best friend is crazy. I love Audrey, but this is a demonstrable fact. She doesn't do things like anyone else and sometimes I get worried, but Audrey can take care of herself. I've been best friends with Audrey since I was eight--I know the score on her.

The pictures tell sort of a scary story. A dangerous story, though at first it looks like a good story--me and Audrey in matching outfits. Me and Audrey in tennis outfits, smiling for the camera. At summer camp. In costume for the eighth grade play. Always smiling, always hugging or holding hands or doing something that required lots of touching. We shared everything--first kisses, first dates, first everything.

We didn't have a lot of other friends, see. Audrey's crazy and I had too many weird dreams about a future where I was a different girl, a girl from the future who wished herself into the past. Our fathers were both too rich and too weird and both of our mothers just didn't function day-to-day. No one else wanted to understand what that was like and so we were a little group apart.

When I was fifteen, Bobby Briggs tried to go way too far with me. I decked him--gave him a sweet black eye--and he got ugly with the rumors. Audrey and I didn't talk for a week because she was sure I'd told him as much. Of course, then she found out it was because Bobby had crossed the line and everything was forgiven and forgotten.

Back to normal, you might say. Whatever normal is when you're crazy and teenaged and prone to sleeping in your best friend's bed.

It was just another night. Audrey's room in the Great Northern, lying on the bed, smoking stolen cigarettes and wearing pajamas that were far too old for us. Talking about what to wear to the next dance, who was sleeping with whom, Laura Palmer's wildness, Donna Hayward's anorexia. Audrey kept touching me, trying to get a rise out of me. It had already led to two tickle fights and the air--

"The air is seriously intoxicating tonight," Audrey said, taking a long drag off her cigarette.

Just another night.

"I had another one of my dreams," I said about midnight, snuggling deep into Audrey's bed with its down comforter and perfect mattress. Audrey giggled.

"And so did I," she replied, rubbing up next to me and giving me a quick hug that ended up lasting much longer than it should have. "Well--what was yours?"

"That dreamers often lie," I replied with a slightly drunken, slightly hysterical giggle, pressing my cheek against my best friend's.

"In bed--" Audrey leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. "Asleep, while they do dream of things true."

I turned over and looked at her, shivering. My fingers were pressed to my lips and I stared at her, seeing the same strange shiver in Audrey's eyes. It made me feel better somehow to see that whatever I was feeling, she felt it, too.

"You're just like your father," I said in a low voice, rubbing my leg over Audrey's bare one. "You love that poetry stuff."

"My father--" Audrey put her hand on my stomach and began tracing teasing patterns through the skimpy material-- "Is a dirty old man who looks down your dress when you come over for dinner."

"Like father--" I set my hand atop Audrey's and guided it up toward my breast-- "Like daughter."

Audrey giggled and blushed, but she also started rubbing my breast. "Do you want to?"

"Just practice," I whispered into ear, feeling compelled to lick the earlobe for good measure. "After all, one day we're going to be grown-up and do you really think those big lumps at school are going to show us how to do it right?"

Audrey's crazy and she also knows what she wants. She squeezed my breast with her hand and then climbed on top of me, giggling shamelessly at the way I gasped and arched up. I was tingling everywhere and I was dry at the mouth.

"Are you kidding?" she asked, running her hand across my cheek and stopping to set a finger on my lips. I pulled it into my mouth and slowly started sucking it. "They couldn't figure out what makes a girl tick if the coach diagrammed it for them step--by--step."

I was getting wet and trembly between my legs. I had to kiss her immediately, so I reached up and pulled her face to mine for a short kiss.

"Exactly," I murmured as she pulled away and pushed up my pajama top. "It would be a waste of our time."

"You're very right," Audrey whispered, rocking her hips into mine insistently and sliding my pajama top all the way off. I was dizzy and hot. I wanted her to touch me in the worst way. "Brian Marsden tried to kiss me under the bleachers last week. He tasted like cheap scotch."

She reached down and her lips met mine, wet and warm and feverish. Her tongue parted my teeth and swirled against mine, and the rest of my skin was shivering at the way her nightgown rubbed against me while we were kissing. I kept clutching at her back because I didn't want her to stop. Finally, Audrey pulled away, leaving me wet and dazed and gasping.

"You taste good," I said stupidly as she pulled her own nightgown off. "Like--cherry lip gloss. I like that. You should probably practice, um, sucking on my earlobe or licking my neck. Guys always seem to like that. And the part where you're rubbing your hips against me? Definitely keep doing that."

"Okay," she said in a soft, sort of glazed voice. She leaned down and kissed her way up my jawline to my earlobe, which she pulled into her mouth and bit down on.

I moaned and wrapped my legs around her, pushing my hips into hers needily. I was hot and I couldn't think about anything except touching her. I reached up and found one of her breasts and Audrey stopped sucking on my earlobe long enough to gasp.

"Mmm," she said, kissing her way down my neck wetly as her hand rubbed up and down my side, stopping at my hip. "I want to--"

Yeah. I wanted to. Too. I wanted to, too and her hips lifted off mine and she was trying to move away and her hand was suddenly

"Oh!" I said, feeling her fingers there. "Oh. Oh."

"Yeah," she whispered, sliding inside of me. Inside of. Oh. "What's wrong, you never had anyone touch you there?"

"As a matter of fact--"

She was pumping her fingers in and out of me and if any of the boys had tried this, I would have punched them out but with Audrey it was it was it was wow oh wow oh wow, how did she know where to slide her fingers so that it felt so good.

"You're joking, right?" she asked, her voice breathy and hot against my ear as I squirmed and bucked like crazy. "You've done this to yourself, right?"

"Not as good as this," I gasped as one of Audrey's free fingers found my most sensitive--my clitoris--and started rubbing. "ooooooooooh--"

"You should practice," Audrey said, the words sounding less advisory with the harsh, ragged gasps overlaying the words. I couldn't think. She was babbling but all I wanted was for her to never stop touching me. Ever. I found her breast somewhere in my sex-crazed thoughts and squeezed gently.

"Harder," she said, and I did exactly what she said, my hips and my hand and everything in a sort of motion that wasn't going or stopping and the Audrey touched me just right and I screamed.

"Oh, oh my god, wow. Wow. Wow."

Audrey fell into me, her head heavy and comfortable against my shoulder as my body felt like it was--I don't know, made of sparkles, energy all over and I was high on it, loving every tiny second of it as I started feeling less tingly and more solid again. There was nothing except good here and for once in my life I felt like there wasn't anything waiting to get me outside the door.

"Mmm," Audrey hummed into my skin, sweaty and soft-focus and almost real. "Like that?"

"Mmm-hmm," I said. I remembered what I'd wished. I'd wished to be found by someone who would love me. And here I was.

I kissed her hair, running a hand down her arm. All the craziness had led me to the right place. That was kind of nice, all sorts of scary things considered. And I was getting all hot and bothered again.

"Audrey?" I whispered, teasing the outside curve of her breast and enjoying the feel of the skin.

"Yeah?"

"My turn."

"Okay," she said. I'm from somewhere else entirely, but there is nowhere I'd rather be than here.


End file.
